


If You Ask

by HollowIsTheWorld



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Meaningless Fluff, No plot whatsoever, and not in the kinky fun way, just 900+ words of sappy rambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowIsTheWorld/pseuds/HollowIsTheWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you ask Benny and Samandriel about their relationship, the answer you get won't even scratch the surface of the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Ask

If people ask about them, Samandriel will say he loves Benny for his looks, for his sexy accent, for his muscles, or his cooking skills. Benny will say he loves Samandriel for his cute appearance, his laugh, his artistic ability, the way he can speak four different languages perfectly.

They aren’t lies, technically, they _do_ love those things about each other, love everything there is to love about each other, but those aren’t the important things. They say those things because that’s what is expected of them and some things are too private to be shared.

It’s the quiet moments that really resonate.

The moments where Samandriel’s tucked under Benny’s arm and bad movies are playing on the television.

Early morning before Benny wakes up and Samandriel lays under the blankets listening to their matching breathing.

The times when Benny thinks Samandriel’s asleep but he’s not and Benny pulls him closer and whispers ‘angel’ under his breath.

Things like the way Samandriel leans across the kitchen counter to watch Benny cook.

Fighting over blankets in the middle of winter because they’re too stubborn to pull more out of the hall closet.

The mornings where Samandriel is running late and gets halfway to his destination before realizing he put on one of Benny’s shirts by accident, and it’s several sizes too big for him so he can’t even pretend it was just a shopping mishap.

Samandriel loves the way Benny never forgets that Samandriel likes blueberry muffins with his breakfast, and makes sure they always have some in the house.

Benny loves that Samandriel usually gets up first and will start the coffeemaker for him, even though Samandriel doesn’t care much for coffee himself.

Samandriel loves Benny for always taking the potentially confrontational meetings with their landlord.

Benny loved - and still loves - their first meeting, where his best friend’s boyfriend had dragged his little brother along for lunch so that Benny didn’t feel like a third wheel. Loves how Samandriel had rolled his eyes at introductions, fully aware that his brother was trying to set him up.

Samandriel loved - and still loves - their first date, where Benny had held open doors and pulled out chairs and been a perfect gentleman in an attempt to prove Samandriel wrong about Benny being a barbarian.

They love nights where they turn on the radio and dance in the kitchen, just the two of them, where no one can see and cause trouble.

Samandriel curls himself into Benny’s side to sleep, because it’s warm and Benny’s safe, and there are no more dick high school students to make him think he should feel guilty about loving with everything he has in him.

Benny pulls Samandriel into his lap when they watch movies, because he likes to remind himself that Samandriel is there, is real, isn’t going anywhere, won’t be taken away.

They don’t speak after long days, worried that the day will turn into sharp, biting words that they don’t mean but can’t take back. Instead, they eat dinner in silence, sitting across the table from one another, legs stretched out far enough for their feet to touch. It’s a tiny gesture, but it says everything they can’t find the words for.

They aren’t much for public displays of affection. Benny will sometimes loop an arm around Samandriel’s shoulders in their restaurant booth, but they rarely kiss where others can see. It’s private for them. Much about them is private.

Such as the sounds Samandriel makes when it’s just them and the dark of their room and they’re holding onto each other like the world may come crashing to an end if they ever let go.

They talk and talk and talk around others. They contribute to the conversations, answer the questions, laugh at the jokes, engage in the banter.

At home, they talk the same, and banter the same, and sometimes it would sound to a stranger like they were fighting. But not all the time. Sometimes they sit in silence, work in silence, enjoy the quiet of their apartment being broken by nothing save for their own breathing.

The thing Samandriel loves most about Benny is something he can barely put into words and would never say aloud for fear of ridicule. He loves Benny’s gentle firmness, like a storm that might destroy anything it touches, but always sets Samandriel down safely instead. The quiet nights Samandriel spent, calmly reassuring Benny that he wasn’t a danger, wasn’t a threat, that Samandriel wasn’t afraid of him, wasn’t feeling coerced into anything. Benny worries about things like that, worries that someday he will see his father looking at him out of the mirror. Samandriel knows better, and holds Benny’s hand through the fears.

To Benny, Samandriel is the universe condensed. The fires of the sun burn through his veins, and the pulse of distant stars work his heart. Benny knows what to watch for, can spot the days when the old doubts resurface and Samandriel needs to be told he’s not wrong or broken. There are times when Benny shakes from the desire to destroy the people who directed the harsh words at him, but they’re long gone and years in the past. Only their ghosts speak now. So Benny pulls Samandriel close instead, calls him his angel, his sun, and stands with a silent promise that he’s not going anywhere.

If people ask about them, they won’t hear the truth. But that’s alright. They know everything they need to.


End file.
